An explosion thinned V's sleep.

"Woah kid, chill! Lady-bot, don't—! Ah fuck, they're not listening! Soda can, can't you do something?!"

"NEGATIVE. PODS ARE NOT AUTHORIZED TO ENGAGE IN COMBAT WITHOUT DIRECT ORDERS."

"Shit, should I shock 'em a little?"

"THIS UNIT HAS DOUBTS ABOUT UNIT GRIFFON'S CLASSIFICATION OF 'A LITTLE'. PROPOSAL: WAKE SUBJECT V UP."

"I would fuckin' love to but if he's sleepin' through this somehow I don't think an alarm clock will work!"

"PROPOSAL: SHOCK HIM A LITTLE."

"Oh, fuck you!"

V's life, paradoxically long and short at the same time, was filled with an absence of rest. The crass squawks of his familiar should not have grated on him any more than usual, but his left arm was heavy and coursing with fever and the noisier they were, the more he awakened to just how unlike himself he felt.

Power crashed through him, a rain-swelled river that he was not yet fit to cross nor harness. The dragon's soul promised him obedience, but her soul was not what abided with him. This was no demon with a core he could hold and bind to his wishes or a mind that could be reasoned with. The potent power left in her bones was more like a headless brute thrashing around on instinct inside of him. True, without the soul's blessing, it may have casually crushed him in its throes, but even still it would not settle. It couldn't think, but through him it could perceive, and his mind ran with imagery and instinct that didn't belong to him. Tens of thousands of years of experience reacted at once to the clang of metal and the roar of combat, raising fire in the dragon's bones, and so in V's as well.

His hand shot out to Griffon's beak, and the other caught Pod before he could drift out of the way.

"Shut up."

Sweat ran down his body. The dragon's fever was not like the one the gods set on him. The latter burned from within, while the fore was like being enclosed in a molten shell. A battle response rather than a sickness, focused to a point of white intensity around his darkened and scaled left hand.

It shared only a base resemblance to the arm Vergil had torn from Nero, but the memory and perhaps his own remorse magnified it until it might as well have been the very same. The disgust came back fresh and sharp the longer he looked at it. His lips parted to curse it for the eyesore it was, but a sharp image of a younger, similarly afflicted Nero killed the thought.

Pesky fatherly love, was it? Ha.

"It tempts me to think this world a purgatory, were it not so much more creative in its mockery than hell."

He released the chatty familiars and climbed to his feet, creeping to the edge of the broken bridge. 9S and Fern were descending the trail of rubble and white debris into what remained of the inner courtyard. Pod fire rattled out like an infinite shuffle of cards, occasionally interspersed with some of the more creative attack programs. Spears of light and a burst of electricity that Fern narrowly dodged. Even a hammer protocol executed with such extreme prejudice that V felt the bridge quake beneath his feet. Fern's methods leaned more toward the evasive, but in every head-on clash, she proved the stronger. Perhaps it had been more by chance than by intention that she had not harmed 9S in their previous encounter.

He pinched at the bridge of his nose. This was exactly what he'd wanted to avoid. This was no duel, they mere feral cats tearing at one another. Fern, to keep her memories drowned unbeknownst to her, and 9S…for what exactly? A human?

If V had learned one thing well these past weeks, it was that he was demon enough. Enough to be taken to the basin, and enough to reach out to the soul of a creature who had been dead for millennia. Was it because of his reunion with Urizen? Or because of the heritage that coursed through him that not even Yamato could cut away? Such 'why's no longer mattered. He had obtained power that would negate his need for maso and in exchange, he bore a visible marker. Fern's faith in his humanity was blind; it was beyond her to care about how much a demon he was.

9S would not prove the same. His irreverence was boundless, a quality admirable enough to spare a smirk for, but equally cause for practical concern. When machines were denied that which they chose to live for, they were overcome with an urge to destroy and be destroyed, and 9S had admitted that his processes worked the same. Finding out would undo him. At worst, he would lash out. At best, he might simply part ways with V.

V erased the thought and shook off the almost physical weight it threatened to press on him. It had no bearing on the situation beyond forcing him to find a covering for this wretched growth. He threw on the coat, but the sleeves did not fall long enough, and it left him little choice but to tear up his cloak. The fabric split in his grip with ease.

As he wrapped his arm to his satisfaction, he looked again at the battle underway below and glanced up at Pod 042. "I presume 9S is in little danger if you're so unconcerned about this."

"AFFIRMATIVE. HOWEVER, IF UNIT FERN RECOVERS MEMORY OF BEING AN E UNIT, THERE IS A 99.7% CHANCE OF UNIT 9S' DESTRUCTION. PROPOSAL: FORCE UNITS TO CEASE COMBAT."

He rolled his eyes skyward and grabbed his cane. "Sitzfleisch."

Griffon let V down just outside the well of gravity that engulfed both androids. Fern's weight, presumably even greater than that of 9S, did not offer nearly as much resistance at it should have when he snatched her free of it and threw her to the dirt. Though his body was still bent and fragile, the restlessness of the red dragon lent him familiar strength.

"Leave."

Fern's eyes jumped between him and 9S, the urge to obey fighting with her instinct to eliminate the threat to her blissful ignorance. "But—!"

He brandished the cane just before her face, eyes narrowed but cool. "You took certain liberties took in my partial absence these past few days." A faint wind that had nothing to do with the air stirred between them, and the tattoos writhed tellingly atop his skin. She winced back from the rising pressure he exuded. "Were you wise, you would cross the ravine. Before I begin counting your transgressions in earnest."

Behind him, the gravity well faded. Fern scrabbled back and 9S shot past in pursuit, so intent on his target that he did not seem to register V's presence.

"Capture."

Pod 042's wire yanked 9S back across the courtyard and into V, who easily corralled him within both arms and the cane. On the other side of the debris, Fern hesitated. A hard look from V, and she vanished.

9S' ragged breaths pushed against the restraint of the cane, but he made no effort to move. It was for the best. The force running through V was not his own, and he did not know its depths.

"I do seem to recall," V said slowly. "That this was precisely my reason for keeping you separated from her."

9S' head remained trained on where Fern had gone. "Do you know that's an E unit?"

"8E, yes. Pod made me aware when we made contact with her."

"Then why are you still with her?!" He drooped forward. "Why would you stay with an executioner?!"

The unexpectedly vitriolic outburst was not lost on V, but he could not make it his focus. The lingering battle lust emanating so close to him had the dragon further riled. He had no idea how to make her grasp that 9S only appeared human and wasn't their enemy. He could only grip his cane as if it were a ward to keep the flashes of her bottomless hate for humans at bay. Curious though his behavior was, 9S could not stay. The thoughtless reactivity of the dragon's power posed too great a danger.

"Her being an E unit has no bearing on what I required her for."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

V lowered the cane and leaned on it. "I wasn't aware that information was of any importance."

9S sucked in an uneven breath for an even more uneven laugh. Sudden emotionality was common in him, but never so far into the realm of hatred. Even his sword remained in hand, gripped in shuddering silence as he bore down whatever rage had overcome him.

"It's important to me," he admitted bitterly.

"So I gather. But even had I known, there is little to tell. She doesn't remember that she is YoRHa, much less that she had such a sordid role. I understand you restored her memory once before, but all she recalls of it now is that she fears you." He gestured to a web of cracks on the face of a white block. "And hates you, it seems."

"The feeling's mutual," 9S muttered.

"The feeling is why you were supposed to keep your distance," V said bitingly. "If you are done, you should return to the camp."

9S turned, his sword still held tight as he searched V's face. "...I fought demons today."

The words bounced behind V's blank gaze. Gunshot cracks popped in time with the knuckles on his bandaged hand. "You're sure?"

"It smells like decomposed animal flesh when they show up, right?" A low wind picked up around them. V focused on pushing it back, but 9S rubbed at his arm as if to ward off a sourceless chill. "They possessed a bunch of the YoRHa bodies still lying around. And they came to the camp. I scanned one and—I didn't see anything, technically but I know there was something inside of it. I could hear it thinking. And when we killed them all there were these crystals. Red with faces on them. Humility drank them. Like it did to you."

The stench in the desert. The portals had been closed by Emil's explosive last moments, of that he was certain, but some ants had gotten through anyway. Sloppy. Infuriating. It was the entire point of his near-death in the ravine to avoid exactly this moment, and for nothing. The dragon's power chanted hate through his mind, feeding on him and echoing him until his vision shimmered white. He loomed over 9S without meaning to, only realizing when the boy took a confused, cautionary step back.

"...I'm sorry." The words were tight to his ears so he couldn't fathom how they sounded to 9S. Too much of his focus was on keeping the lid on that power rushing to lend itself to him. To give an outlet to his anger.

"Are you really trying to protect me, V?"

More than he knew. "Yes."

"Then tell me what's going on." The sword vanished from 9S' loosened grip. his anger vanished with it, replaced by that pitiful, seeking face he only made when he wanted to extend his trust somewhere he wasn't sure it should go. "Is all of this happening because you're still sick? I saw the salt in the park. I know you still have white chlorination."

V gave an exasperated sigh, more at himself than at 9S. "It wasn't my intention to hide that from you. It was a chaotic event and my mind was…occupied." A fancy means to say he'd been careless. "It does involve the illness, but it is a long story and I am in no condition to tell it to you this instant."

"Because you did something dangerous out in the desert." V scowled, and 9S almost smiled. "I figured when I saw you sleeping."

"Then you know I'm irate at being awakened prematurely," V said with an imperious raise of his chin.

That was a well-worn path that should have been familiar and easy to tread, but it did not manage to coax 9S out of his tightly wound mood. "And I'm irate that E unit brought you here of all places, so I guess we're even."

Not ideal, V could admit. But this was getting old. "Pod would not have allowed it if there was an alternative. Do you not have your fellow scanners to worry after?"

"Why do you keep trying to rush me out of here?"

Bite. Claw. Flame. Arrow. Gods, he might actually prefer Griffon's abrasive chatter to this creature's thoughts. "Because your persistence is trying my patience. You came to see if I am alright. I am. Once I have rested, I will move on from this place."

"With her."

"If I still have need of her, yes." He resisted the urge to cross his arms. It would only draw attention to the crude bandages. "9S, if her model is meant to mean something to me, you'd do well to enlighten me instead of sulking."

9S' eyes narrowed and watered, and V braced for another outburst, but it didn't come. Whatever the problem was, 9S was not able to release it as more than a tremble in his shoulders. He broke eye contact with a tight-jawed scowl.

"It wouldn't be the first time an E unit has taken something important from me." Before V could decide how (or if) he wanted to take that, 9S raised yet another difficult question. "What happened to your arm?"

"Frostbite," he said tartly. 9S' brows knitted in utter bafflement. V could not imagine what conclusions the scanner may have jumped to hearing of only the aftermath of his exploits, so it was only fair that he provided an explanation. In what he hoped was the briefest and least alarming manner possible. "Demons appeared in the ravine. I spent seven days attempting to make sure they would not continue to appear, and for my efforts, I was cast into the waterfall and tasked to survive with barely any magic at my disposal. I understand I made it quite far before hypothermia's more unpleasant symptoms besieged me."

The scanner's face curled into a scowl, his eyes darting as if along a page in the telltale way they did when he was recontextualizing a problem. No doubt he'd passed these weeks fretful and confused—one of the least pleasant combinations of his moods, and yet in this case more justified than ever.

"Where the hell was she?!"

"Finding a cure," V said, vying for placation if reason would not suffice. "Which may have been successful."

"You...mean it?" There was the brightness V was accustomed to. "V that would make you the first human to survive it! I mean that's what we thought before, but—Really this time? You're not sick anymore?"

"Time will tell. Until it does, I require her."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"She's not going to kill me, 9S."

"It's not about her killing you, it's about her getting you killed. The goal was for you to stay hidden, but they know her face now and at least three people know you're out here; you can't just keep running around with her forever. Even if she values your life as much as I do, that doesn't mean she's thought at all about the consequences. There are bigger things out there and she can't protect you from them." He ran his hands over his face and laughed weakly. "I don't even know if I can protect you."

Flame. Arrow. V ignored the thought and pushed his cane beneath 9S' chin. For this at least, the dragon could wait a moment. "That was rather…specific. Has Theta become a problem for you?"

"No," he said in a small and shaken voice. "I still don't have a goddamn clue what she actually wants with me. She says she wants me to be safe in one breath, and the next one she tells me not to trust her because my goals may not align with hers! What the hell am I supposed to make of that?"

It occurred to V that he had no idea what exactly 9S had been dealing with between now and their last meeting. His hate for Fern had fallen away but all that lie beneath that one focal point were snarls of problems whose context there was no time to grasp. A solution had to be possible, but V was just barely holding back a creature with no mind, what felt like unlimited power, and a lust for battle that wouldn't calm. There was no time to make plans or right wrongs or reconcile the differences in their concerns.

But if he said that, he was certain 9S would implode.

As if sensing his frustration, 9S pressed him. "I've already fought demons. So what is it. What are you really trying to protect me from, V? Why does it have to be her and not me?"

Arrow .

V winced. The dragon's insistence had boiled down to that one image of arrows falling through the sky and it felt like she was screaming it at him. Why arrows? Those were human tools and she hated—

He snatched 9S and hissed a command. Pod 042 complied with a golden sphere that repelled a round of shots. Low caliber, he thought. They sounded nothing like Dante's guns, at least.

Within his coat, 9S squirmed, only to suddenly freeze. "Aconite…?"

V looked over his shoulder. A female android with passing similarity to Fern stood behind them. She was taller. Her red hair even shorter, revealing the smoldering storm of her scowl over the barrel of a smoking pistol.

"Aconite," 9S repeated, his voice low and warning. "This isn't the one you're looking for. He isn't YoRHa."

Her eyes flicked to the two Pods above them, and to the perimeter of the shield around them, and finally settled on V's coat. She shook her head, cursing and laughing in turns and took her time to reload.

"The one who killed Rho and Lobelia is a female unit," 9S pleaded. "The camp has all the information already!"

A bullet pinged against the barrier. "Fuck you."

"I'm serious, he's—!" In his clumsy desperation to make the situation resolve peacefully, he must have stuck his hand outside the barrier. A shot fired. V saw something black exit his periphery, and then 9S was firmly back inside with him, clutching a hand that no longer had the correct number of digits.

A flash of divine comprehension that was not V's filled his mind with brilliance. The dragon could not think but she perceived. 9S and the damage done to him. The twisting waves of concern, the acids of contempt, and the thumping drum of displeasure growing loud in V's chest. She understood.

The boy was theirs.

V had two thoughts on the heel of this second-hand epiphany: The absolute audacity of the dragon to assume anything of his was hers to claim shared ownership of; and a harsh correction that he might as well have saved. The dragon perceived as he perceived. That was the conclusion she had come to. However else V might have preferred for her to think about it, the truth remained that she no longer had to struggle within her new and unclear boundaries.

When her attention focused on Aconite, he pressed his coat over 9S' face and freely released her.

The ink washed from his body, funneling down into his left arm, and a shimmering haze of heat rippled the air around him. Feathers erupted from beneath his bandages, bright and blue and churning with electricity. They crept up as far as the side of his neck, and he was certain he felt a shift in the way his teeth sat in his mouth. He raised his arm.

Alarm pierced Aconite's cold intent, and in the moment of her hesitation, he snatched her in talons of violet-white plasma and crushed her into the castle wall. Her screams were brief. The scent of charred clothing and burned metal replaced them on the wind.

V did not release 9S until the transformation had receded back below his slightly singed bandages. He threw his coat over his shoulder and stalked off. 9S was still staring at the sparking remains, his eyes tracing the talon-shaped gouges left in the stone when V returned and dropped 9S' severed finger in his lap.

"I'm protecting you from me."

9S looked up at him with a horrified, uncomprehending stare.

V rubbed at his eyes. Now he truly was exhausted. He didn't have nearly as much control over that power as he'd have liked. But no portals opened. No rush of sickly hot fever and churned up memories came over him. That was enough of a victory for now. "As I place my trust in you in spite of your unwillingness to share what it is that so bothers you about the E type, so must you place your trust in me. When my business is done, I will tell you all that you ask."

"You don't get to say that." He climbed clumsily to his feet. "If you're going to say that—damn it, let me help!"

"9S," V groaned, worn down by physical fatigue, impatience, and the last miserable remains of his ability to endure 9S' stubbornness. "I am trying not to hurt you, is that not enough?"

"No! It's the same thing! It's the same thing 2B did before she died!"

"I'm not 2B."

In the distance, the falls roared. Herds of moose and boar beat the loam with heavy hooves, and the humid breeze moved through the trees at more of a yawn than a sigh. In the courtyard, where the sun suddenly seemed too bright, there was only silence.

By some force of will as unexpected as their meeting itself, 9S shed none of the tears brimming in his eyes.

"Yeah. You're right. You're not 2B." His voice was quiet. Barely a whisper, flat and dull as his eyes. "And I'm not Nero."

Choosing to be silent was V's specialty, but his mind raced for something to say. A dozen things, a hundred things, innumerable things he could have spoken crowded into his thoughts... only for his mouth to remain empty.

9S, meanwhile, passed him by and did not look back.

A/N: And on that note, while V deals with his Bad End, it is time for a much-needed break.

This fic will be on hiatus until mid-February. This is to recuperate from the hectic holiday, take my time with the more tricky parts of the upcoming plot, and work on reining my chapter lengths in. The goal is 3-4k rather than the 5k+ I've been doing recently without changing the twice-weekly posting schedule. If breaking them up slows the pace down or paring them down doesn't cover enough ground, I'll just keep writing them 5K+ but on a once-weekly schedule to preserve quality and keep me from losing my goddamn mind.

This break is also to allow me time to both attend and recover from the NieR Automata orchestral concert at the end of January. If y'all have tickets, maybe I'll be a section over from you pretending to not be emotionally compromised by video game music in public.

Happy New Year, I hope you're starting 2020 off well, and I'll catch y'all in February.

PS: This fic is basically half character study through the juxtaposition of similar traumas, half science fantasy joyride through canon ft. Vergil: Dying Twink Edition and Punished Hackerman, and all parts complete self-indulgence. I'm not sure how 100+ of y'all decided you were into this, but thanks for reading.